Suck My Metaphor
by MsHeartformusic
Summary: Dylan Wood is a 'Trouble Student' attending Hogwarts against her will. Draco Malfoy is a ferret-faced git and this was far from a love story. This is a story of how the hate people hold for one another can change the world.


Dylan's P.O.V

I tucked my face into the crook of my elbow, trying to shield it from the harsh wind and freezing rain as I attempted to keep myself upright in the storm. The gusts pulled mercilessly at my clothes, nipping fiercely at my skin. My actions weren't all that helpful heat-wise, but that really didn't matter. All that was important now was that I A) didn't die B) didn't lose all of my things and C) didn't lose Puditt, my raven, to the typhoon. I glanced down at the strap across my chest, securing my over-sized bag, full of my shrunk-down necessities to my back. Somehow the list on necessities had included my hair dryer, makeup, and bed.

Perhaps running away was not exactly my brightest idea but what the hell else was I supposed to do? After receiving a rather strong-willed request that I transfer away from my previous school, "The Lady's of France", which truly was a terrible name for a school if you ask my opinion, I didn't have many other options left. I refuse to allow myself be transferred or homeschooled. I don't know why, but I would literally rather be eaten alive by wolves than have to go through the torture of being the 'new girl'. I'm not misusing the word literally. I genuinely would rather face death than be the 'new girl' again. Everyone treats you like you're a shiny new toy for a while, until they realize you're broken or they find someone else to play with and drop your like you bit them. I refuse to be part of that process ever again.

Suddenly, a flash of lightning struck the open air next to me. The force of the energy released shoved me forcefully backwards and I fought to stay aboard my broomstick. It was a loosing battle and finally, I was ripped away from my Nimbus 3000. I shut my eyes tight and let out an ear-piercing scream as I fell, my belongings following after me.

I don't know how long I fell for, but I finally hit the ground. I was surprised to find that I didn't seem to be in all that much pain. _Am I dead? No, I'm not dead, if I was dead, I would probably be part of the matrix. And also, I would have a floor length leather coat. _That's my theory, anyway. I knew that I would more than have bruises up and down my back as well as numerous scratches and a dislocated shoulder, if I happened to be alive that is. And I hoped I was because there were still so many things I wanted to do…like punch Voldemort in the nose. You know, if he had one….Heh…poor bastard…I guess that's one of the consequences of being the most evil fuckhead to ever walk on this earth.

"What the bloody _hell_ are you doing here?" Hmm…that voice sounds eerily familiar….God? Is that you?

I peeled one eyelid away from my violet eyes and then the other. Staring down at me was my elder brother, Oliver Wood. He had a single eyebrow cocked, arms crossed, toe tapping against the ground. _It seems I am now fully immersed in a world of "what the fuck?"_

I slowly got to my feet, with no help from my brother I might add, rubbing at my backside with both hands. I took a moment to observe our surroundings; oddly enough, we weren't alone. At all. Not even close. The room contained five of the largest tables that I had ever seen, filled up entirely with people ranging from roughly age eleven to eighteen. I swear, each and every one of the "Hogwarts" uniform-clad buggers had dropped their jaws to the ground and had yet to retrieve it. I gave an ugly sneer, snapping. "What? Never seen a girl fall out of the ceiling before?"

The hall, the great hall I think my brother said it was, burst into raucous laughter and it made me wonder if perhaps my comment was more hilarious than it was snide. It's kind of hard to be intimidating when you just busted your own ass. I was about to snarl a few words that my mother had begged me on various cases not to use before my brother put his large, sweaty hand over my mouth. _That's just flat out nasty._

Oliver moved behind me and, grabbing me from the back, started to drag me out of the room. He certainly didn't look exactly pleased, I was slightly afraid for my life. My brother wouldn't be happy if I lost him his job as Hogwarts new flight instructor, but it wouldn't even really be my fault. It's not like it's my fault I randomly ended up here, it's not my fault that the hog's warts couldn't stop staring at me, it's not my fault that they wouldn't stop mocking me, and it certainly wouldn't be my fault of I had to Avada a few of their asses. It would be self defense in a way; my body's natural defense against stupid, that is.

"Dumbledore…uh…this is…sorry, uh…so sorry for the interruption, she really shouldn't be here." She? What the Merlin's soggy shorts? I'm a 'her' now? Fuck that shit!

With an evil smirk on my lips, I let my tongue dart out and deal Oliver's hand a good long, soggy lick. He immediately let go, jumping back and wiping his hands on his robes in disgust. "Really, Oliver? We came out of the same womb and you're afraid of my spit?" I muttered quietly, but he either didn't hear it or I was ignored. I liked to think that it was the former.

Some ancient guy (he must have existed before the creation of dirt because holy shit, this guy is old) in ornate robes with a few bells tied into his beard stood up in front of large golden own podium, raising both of his arms in an appeasing gesture. "Now, Now Professor Wood" I fought the urge to snicker, that's so weird for me to hear. I probably won't be hearing it much longer; as much as I love my bungflake brother, he has got to accidently kill one of the students pretty soon. I don't imagine he would be welcome here after that. "It's quite alright. Ms. Wood was enrolled yesterday." Uh…what? But…I didn't even….what? Excuse me, um…huh…what?

Turning towards me, his wrinkle-surrounded eyes twinkled like diamonds…I wanted to scratch them out of his head. Nothing personal, it just isn't safe to be around me when I'm aggravated. "Ms. Wood, if you would, I think that it would be best if we continued this meeting in my office. Is that alright with you?" Even though he phrased it as a question, I got the sinking feeling that it wasn't a suggestion it all. It was demand. A very politely phrased demand, but a demand all the same. _This dude and I are sooo not going to get along._

I gave him a curt nod, pulling away from my brother a little whilst shrugging out of my sopping wet hoodie. I feel like I just went swimming, not for a broom ride. Dumble-fucker sent me a small smile before addressing the rest of the ass-fairies. "Now, if I'm not mistaken, I believe it's time for dinner." With a clap of his hands, all of the tables immediately filled with food, nearly pouring off of the surface. I could feel myself drool a little and I quickly wiped away the spare saliva.

Without anther word, 'Dumbledore' breezed towards me, surprisingly able for someone of his age. I sort of expected the adults sitting at the tables near to him to get up and help him down the stairs or get him a wheelchair or something like that. I guess that in the magic world age doesn't really affect capability but still, you know, this dude is old. Like, practically prehistoric. As in I'm shocked that he could what with him being a fossil and all that. Speaking of which, when do we have to get him back the museum?

My brother kicked the back of my leg a little with the toe of his ugly, old man style shoes. I slipped out of my jacket and threw it at him, nearly snickering as it landed on his face with a wet 'thwunk' noise. I was already off and hurrying after Dumbledore by the time he had removed the dripping article of clothing from his person and chucked it onto the floor. I didn't turn around but rather shouted over my shoulder, "Be a good brother and dry my things for me, won't you? Oh, and Puditt bites." She gave a little squawk to punctuate my statement and I grinned. Sure, it wasn't polite but who has two thumbs and gives a fuck? Not this girl! (except for the two thumbs part. I have that.) I swear I heard Dumble-dumbass chuckle but I couldn't be too sure. It could have been a trick of the mind or maybe someone else in the hall was laughing; I guess we'll never know.

*******Time skip*******

When we reached Dumbledore's office (What kind of password is "Cherry-flavored dragonpops"? It sounds both delicious and morbid at the same time.) He just stared at me for a few minutes with a small smile on his lips, twinkle in his aged eyes. What the hell is wrong with this guy? No, screw that, what the hell is wrong with this school?

I stared right back at him, arching an eyebrow in silent challenge. I knew he was probably trying to use legitamency on me but I had been kicked out of so many schools that I have long since learned to shield my brain from those who wish to pick apart. I got the feeling that maybe this guy wasn't like that but I couldn't be too sure. I just met him after all.

"Ms. Wood, it has been made clear to us that you might have a few…disciplinary issues. Would you agree with this?" He inquired, leaning forward slightly over his oversized desk. I bet the reason the damn thing is so fucking huge is to make it impossible to reach across the table and strangle him. Kind of like I wanted to do right now. Only a little bit though, I just want to leave some bruises, I don't really feel the need to kill him. Yet…

I snorted out, "Oh please, I'd hardly say the issue lies with me. Everyone else around me just lacks intelligence and it just gets to me sometime. If you ask me, I did them a service. I taught them manners. They should be thanking me." I said it all with a vicious smirk. I don't regret any of the beatings that I have handed out through the years. I probably should, but I don't and that's all I have to say about it.

He frowned, leaning back and rolling his shoulders. Oh shit that's the universal; symbol for getting comfortable. As in, I'm going to be here for a while. Shit just never goes my way, huh? "Ms. Wood, I don't think you really grasp the seriousness of your actions. For your crimes, you could easily be committed to Alcatraz. (AN—This is the junior version of Azkaban for now, okay? For the mild offenders.).This school is your last chance. Do you understand that?"

I began beating him bloody with my eyes. Who the hell does he think he is, speaking to me like I'm a child? I pointed to myself with a single finger. "Who, moi? Little old me? Why, I'm as innocent as pure driven snow." He sent me a sullen look and I began backtracking. I hate the idea of playing by someone else's rules but I hate the idea of having to take my final year of school off because I got my ass dragged to prison. That just seems like it would ruin a perfectly lovely day. "Fine, yeah, I punched the snot out of a few people but they deserved it; every one of them."

I shivered as I thought back to my most recent fight…It was justified if you ask me and most upstanding citizens, but it was rather bloody. I was in town with some of my sort-of-friends (They're kind of like the people you would only hang out with when you're in prison and wouldn't contact after that) when we heard a shout of "No! Let go! Somebody he—" and then it just cut off in a high-pitched scream before it ended abruptly. Without thinking, I rushed off in the direction of the commotion. Long story made short, a boy from our brother school had decided he wanted more than the girl was willing to give him, so he planned on simply taking it. His plot was foiled however, by my fists of fury. When I saw it (thankfully, he hadn't been able to do anything yet) I couldn't even think. I never reached for my wand, I just threw punk after punch. I don't know how long I was hitting him; I just couldn't stop. I know that he must have been unconscious after the second or third hit, but when I try to think about it, it's all just a huge blur. He ended up having to go to Saint Mungo's, and from my knowledge, he hasn't come to yet.

I don't really care about him welfare, but I am a little concerned about my anger management. If I can do that kind of damage when I'm pissed, think about what I would do if I was furious…If that had been one of my friends or one of my family members….that boy wouldn't be alive.

"Ms. Wood, are you listening to headmaster Dumbledore? This is very important I don't think that you fully grasp—" Said a turtle-lipped woman with slightly greying hair who must have crept in while I was absorbed in my thoughts. Sneaky bitch. If my memory serves me right, her name is McGonagal. Then again, I don't generally pay that much attention whenever my brother decides to open his giant yapper.

"The seriousness of this situation. Yeah, yeah, I get it." I finished for her; rolling my shoulders and stretching me legs out more, placing my hands behind my head. "Tell me something I haven't heard before. You're preaching to the choir."

An awkward moment passed before the greasy-haired lump of black from the hall (seriously! How the HELL are these people sneaking up on me?) decided to speak. He stared down at me with derision pouring off of him in waves. "Dylan…We all get that you hate your parents, just as every other _child_ your age, but perhaps it would be beneficial for you to attempt to act less like your brother and more like a worthwhile member of Hogwarts society."

_Excuse me? Did this guy just verbally bitch-slap me with big words? And compare me to my _BROTHER? _Oh hell no! This bitch has got to die!_


End file.
